


Walk Me Home

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Ficlets On a Theme, M/M, Recovery, TW: Gays in the Closet, TW: addiction, tw: infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Six short fics on dealing with addiction in similar and different scenarios.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Lucifer/Dean Winchester, Lucifer/Michael (Supernatural), Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Spencer Reid/David Rossi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 39





	1. Samifer

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS INCLUDE: OPIOID ADDICTION, INFIDELITY, MEN IN THE CLOSET, MENTIONS OF DRUG USE. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, DON'T READ. 
> 
> After working in a jail for 17 months now, among addicts, I couldn't help but try to explore situations where they could be tempted to use and of course, decided to write fanfiction about it and everything. Just as a release, so to speak, since I hear it all the time. 
> 
> The first three stories are Supernatural based. The second three stories are Criminal Minds. Specific ships are the titles of the chapters. Yes, this hurt to write. 
> 
> Title taken from P!nk's "Walk Me Home"

Lucifer’s fingers trembled on the keypad of his phone as he scrolled through his contacts list. Finding the number he wanted, he could’ve sobbed in joy. 

Today had been a really bad day at work, and that meant that, despite copious amounts of therapy and a brief jail stint, he wanted to pick up a bottle of pills and swallow them, wanted to throw away four years of sobriety, and all because of a bitch in a too small uniform and an ego the size of Jupiter, among other things, such as panic attacks. 

Finally, he was able to dial the number. He waited for the phone to pick up. 

“Lucifer?” Sam’s voice sounded confused and groggy.  _ He was asleep, I shouldn’t have called him.  _ “What are you callin’ me at two in the mornin’ for?” 

Lucifer tried a couple of times to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. So he did the next best thing, which was sing. “Walk me home in the dead of night… ‘cause I can’t stay alone with the thoughts on my mind…” 

“Where are you?” Sam asked, a bit more awake now. “Christ, Luce, it’s ten degrees out! You must be freezing!” 

Lucifer came to a corner street and he sat down on the curb. “Corner of Laurel and Woodlawn,” he mumbled. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam soothed. “You did good, baby.” 

“Don’t feel good, Sammy,” Lucifer admitted softly. 

“I know,” Sam said. “And that’s okay, you know? You asked for help on this, with this, and that’s so good. So good for you, and for us as well.” 

“I guess,” Lucifer said. “Are you here yet?” 

“Just about,” Sam murmured. “Did you have a bad day?” 

“My boss was a bitch to me, I had two panic attacks, and I just wanted the pills, Sam,” Lucifer sighed. “God, I hate Sarah. She’s just an easy cocksucker.” 

Sam chuckled. “I know, baby. You doin’ alright?” 

“For now, I think,” Lucifer said. “‘M cold.” 

“I’m almost there, I’m just about to turn onto Woodlawn,” Sam said. “Two more minutes. You’ve held on this long. Just a tiny bit longer.” 

Lucifer saw the headlights and his being flooded with relief when he recognized Sam’s car coming up to the curb, standing. He climbed into the passenger seat and curled up, resting his head on Sam’s lap. 

“Hey, baby,” Sam chuckled. “I’m so proud of you, love.” 

“I haven’t craved in years and I feel like I’m going through withdrawal again,” Lucifer admitted. 

“That happens,” Sam said simply. “Let’s get you home, get you some sleep, and we’ll talk more tomorrow. Sound good?” 

Lucifer smiled. “Can I get some food too?” he asked. “Please? I haven’t eaten since lunch.” 

“Of course you haven’t,” Sam said affectionately. “There’s leftover Chinese. Your favorite- egg drop soup.” 

Lucifer brightened, purring as Sam’s hand started stroking his hair. “Rest,” Sam gently commanded. “You need it. You’ve had a long day.” 

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes. “Love you.” 

“I love you too, Lucifer. Very much.” 

Lucifer sighed again and drifted into a doze, safe. 

Recovery was a long, hard road, with many ups and downs, and Lucifer was glad to have such a supportive boyfriend. It made things easier, knowing that he had a safe person to go to when he wasn’t doing well.


	2. Michifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer tries to get ahold of Michael, and gets someone else instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pain and briefly mentions Michael/Anna and closeted gayness. It also mentions overdosing in a negative way. Do not read if this kind of content would trigger you.

Sometimes, being addicted to something was great. Most times, however, it was not. 

Lucifer’s fingers twitched as he began to dial a number by heart. He was craving and craving  _ bad _ . He had only been sober for six months, so when the cravings hit, they hit hard. 

_ Only one,  _ his brain was telling him.  _ Only one more pill, and you can continue your sober living.  _

It was so hard to remain strong, sometimes. Okay. A lot of the time. And none of his coping mechanisms were really helping right now. 

He dialed the number and hit call, waiting for Michael to pick up. 

However, it wasn’t Michael that picked up. It was Anna, Michael’s girlfriend.  _ Dumb closeted bastard, _ Lucifer thought harshly. 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I need to talk to Michael,” Lucifer said. “It’s urgent. Please.” 

“Michael doesn’t want or need you in his life,” Anna sneered. “You’re the scum of the earth, and you deserve whatever you’re going through.” 

“Let me ta-” Lucifer attempted to interject, but Anna cut him off. 

“No. I hope you overdose.” And with that, Anna hung up on him. 

Lucifer stared at the phone for a few moments, slumping against the wall and sighing. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Fuck you, Anna,” he whispered. “I’m worthy of help.” 

He didn’t believe it. 

_ Someone help me, please. _

He wished that he was in Michael’s arms right now. “Mi, please call,” he whispered. 

That’s where he stayed all night, waiting for Michael to call, to apologize for Anna’s behavior and to offer to come help him. 

The call never came. 


	3. Ducifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Dean go to the club to celebrate Gabriel's bachelor party, when something from Lucifer's past haunts him.

Lucifer didn't frequent the clubs like he used to. He wanted to stay away from the lifestyle that he used to live, the one that lead to his addiction. He had been clean for a year now, and he was determined to keep that streak going.

But this was for Gabriel's bachelor party, Dean was going to pe there with him, and it was at a club that he had never been to. All factors that were in his favor. So, he felt comfortable dressing in tight black leather parts and a leather vest, tousled his hair and put on some thick black

eyeliner and mascara, to make his eyes pop, and went to the club. They were having a blast, dancing while celebrating Gabriel's upcoming nuptials. All of the gifts that were given were ridiculous, and Lucifer was enjoying himself.

It was so freeing to be like this, and be sober. Well, Lucifer wasn't sober completely, but he was tipsy, not drunk, and there was no pressure to get high. He was just contend to dance with

Dean, grind and make out, while holding his drink in his hand.

"Hold my drink, please? Lucifer asked over the bass of the music "I need to piss.”

“Okay, babe,” Dean said, smacking Lucifer's ass playfully.

“You're the best babe," Lucifer cooed, kissing Dean's cheek before weaving his way out of the crowd, going towards the restrooms. He groaned as he relieved himself, zipping, flushing, and going over to wash his hands. 

That's when he noticed an all too familiar sight: powdered white crystals clustering the counter, a portion of it damped down to the water.

The urge to snort it came flooding back to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut lightly against the urge.

_ You have no idea what it is,  _ he reasoned with himself.  _ It could be percocet, vicodin, oxy, fentanyl, hell even cocaine. You don’t know. You don’t know what dosage is there, or what it’s cut with.  _

The voice of his addiction reared its ugly head from it’s slumber and whispered  _ I don’t care. _

Lucifer exhaled roughly and clenched his fists in an attempt to get a grip on himself, warring with himself. 

_ Get out,  _ the sober part of his brain urged.  _ Get out NOW.  _

So he proceeded to do exactly that, almost stumbling out of the bathroom with a pale face. He didn’t have to search for his boyfriend for long, and once he located Dean, he made a swift beeline for him. 

“Hey angel, what’s wrong?” Dean asked as Lucifer approached him. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” 

“I...I...I just saw crushed pills on the bathroom counter,” Lucifer stammered. “Or mmmmaybe it was cocaine. I dunno. Dean, I swear, I didn’t touch it.” 

“I know you didn’t, I can tell,” Dean soothed, pulling Lucifer into his arms and close to him. “Now, tell me what you need, baby.” 

“COmfort, reassurance, touch,” Lucifer mumbled. 

“I can do that,” Dean hummed, swaying in time to the music. “Dance with me, just like this.” 

Lucifer rested his head on Dean’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting the slow dance and the heat of Dean’s body against his own soothe him. He hummed softly along with the music. 

“That’s it, baby, let go for me. You did so well just now. You’ve come so far in just a year, imagine two years. Or five years. Or hell, even twenty years. You’ve got this,” Dean praised him softly. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Dean,” Lucifer murmured, squeezing Dean close. 

“Want to go to the Impala and make out like horny teenagers in the backseat?” Dean asked. 

Lucifer couldn’t help but giggle and nod. “Yes,” he said. “But only if I can cop a feel or two.” 

“Baby, I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” Dean laughed, wrapping a protective around Lucifer and leading him out of the club and away from the hidden temptations that lurked there. 


	4. Hotch/Reid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid really needs his secret boyfriend. But Hotch doesn't answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains secret relationships and drug addiction, as per usual!!

Sometimes, Sober!Reid makes decisions that Want to be High!Reid hates. 

LIke flushing every bottle of Dilaudid that Reid had owned at one point in time down the toilet without replenishing the supply. 

Reid was trying so hard to remain sober. He really was. And he was doing pretty well. 258 days and counting. 

But this last case… this case was a bad one. Drug induced psychosis, religious overtones, someone nearly getting kidnapped… add in an actual mental disorder that the unsub was self-medicating (or attempting to) for (schizo-affective disorder), and the case ending with the young man’s death, and it was all hallmarks of the Tobias Hankel case. 

And everytime he even thought of the Tobias Hankel case, Reid wanted to get high. Having a case this close to it, and Reid wanted to be so high, he forgot his own name. 

But he couldn’t get high. Not when 255 days earlier, Reid flushed all of the Dilaudid down the toilet. 

Fuck his life. Why did sober and happy him have to be so goddamn smart and sensible?!

He sat down in his chair and picked up  _ Anna Karenina  _ in the original Russian, trying to ignore his bouncing leg and his craving for the drug that stole his life, but he couldn’t focus on the Cyrillic type in front of him. Not when his mind was begging for the feeling of metal sliding into his skin, for the drug to flow through his veins and to  _ forget.  _

At long last, he had had enough and grabbed his phone before dialing a number from memory. Hitting  _ call _ , he prayed to something that he never believed in that his secret boyfriend would pick up the phone. 

However, his prayer went unanswered and it went to his voicemail. 

“You have reached SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. If you are calling about a case for the BAU, please hang up and call our media liaison, Jennifer Jareau. If your call is of a more personal nature, please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I will call you back as soon as I am able. Thank you and have a good day.” 

_ BEEP _

“Hotch, it’s Reid. I’m not doing too good,” Reid said, cringing at his poor grammar internally. “Please, give me a call back. Please, Aaron.” He hung up then, and tried to return his focus to his book. 

An hour passed. Then two hours. 

_ Maybe he went for drinks with Rossi _ , he thought sadly.  _ Or maybe he’s putting Jack to bed. I should try to call him again. _

He did, and got the same result. 

“You have reached SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. If you are calling about a case for the BAU, please hang up…” 

_ BEEP _ . 

“Aaron, I need you,” Reid pleaded in the second voicemail. “Please, call me back.” 

This pattern continued to repeat itself throughout the night, with Reid finally giving up on leaving voicemails and just letting the sound of Hotch’s calm and confident voice in his greeting soothe his battered soul. It helped him a little bit, but it didn’t stop his cravings. It just prevented him from acting on them. 

And as he fell into a fitful sleep on his living room floor, his phone nearby, Reid only had one question on his mind: 

_ Why didn’t Hotch answer his calls?  _


	5. Morgan/Reid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night has an unusual twist in it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains mentions of drug addiction and secrecy.

Reid hated clubs. They were loud, obnoxiously annoying, filled with confusing social cues and cloying music. 

But it was Morgan’s turn to choose date night activities, and he had chosen to go clubbing, so there Reid was, wearing pants that felt too small and a deep V-Neck shirt. 

Morgan was having a blast, dancing with anyone and everyone that he could. Reid knew that while dancing was very mathematical in nature, it also required coordination and he did not have any sort of coordination, so he stayed at a table and watched his boyfriend enjoy himself. 

Morgan did come and visit Reid, making it incredibly apparent that they were there together, kissing him deeply. Reid purred into every kiss that he was given, curling into Morgan each time. He wasn’t jealous- he knew that his boyfriend was an extreme flirt and also incredibly attractive. He just also knew that Morgan was going home with him at the end of the day. 

“I need to use the men’s room,” Reid told Morgan as the clock approached one in the morning. 

“You do that, pretty boy,” Morgan said, kissing Reid softly. “I’ll get one last dance in and then we’ll go. Sound good?” 

“Bed sounds wonderful,” Reid hummed, kissing Morgan before heading off to the men’s room, weaving through the gyrating bodies. 

“Hey, kid. Wanna get high?” 

Reid turned to face the drug dealer outside of the restroom. “Special discount if you blow me,” the dealer said, holding up a familiar bottle. “You’re too buttoned up. You need to relax.” 

Reid wanted that Dilaudid. Being high allowed him to tolerate these types of environments, hell, even enjoy them. But he was also not about to throw away 18 months of sobriety just for the sake of feeling comfortable on a date. “No. Now, get out of here, or I’ll arrest you for possession of a controlled substance and possession with intent to deliver,” he said, pulling out his badge just enough for the dealer to see the FBI logo. 

“Fibbies don’t scare me none, some of my best customers truth be told,” the dealer chuckled. “So much so that there’s a discount for them, too.” 

Reid crossed his arms and arched a brow, trying to look intimidating. He knew that he was failing. 

“C’mon, kid, take some,” the dealer said. “I know you want to. Goody-two-shoes are the best kind of people to corrupt.” 

“You have  _ precisely  _ 38 seconds before I call my partner over,” Reid said, meaning Morgan in both the romantic and the coworker sense. 

The man winked and slipped a vial and a couple of syringes into Reid’s hand. “You want or need more,” he said, “ask for Freebird.” And with that, he slinked off to continue selling his illicit wares.

Reid held the items in his hands, deciding what to do with them. He should get rid of them, or at the very least, keep them as evidence against “Freebird”. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he concealed them easily and used the restroom, taking the opportunity to conceal the items better. Once he finished, he met up with Morgan and they left, his boyfriend teasing him about his cleanliness habits. Reid could tell that Morgan had no clue about his  _ new  _ secret stash of Dilaudid. 

Better to have and not need than to need and not have, right?


	6. Rossi/Reid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rossi could sense that his boyfriend is in distress. So he does the one thing he knows will cheer Reid up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk of a drug addiction and recovery, as per usual! There's also talk of PTSD.

David Rossi normally followed the unspoken rule of not profiling the members of his team. With his boyfriend, however, that was harder to do, especially after the events of this last case. He couldn’t help himself, not when he knew that Reid was fighting against his addiction, which was most certainly PTSD induced. 

And was the PTSD flaring in Reid from this last case, what with being kidnapped (again, they really need to find a way to prevent Reid from being kidnapped) and drugged against his will (this time it was barbitutes, so blissfully Reid spent most of it sleeping). As a result, the younger FBI agent was especially jittery. It wasn’t any of his usual jitteriness that was brought about by passion for the topic (Halloween was a classic example), a break in the case, or a caffeine induced high. No, this was a jitteriness brought on by a need for Dilaudid and a needle under his skin. This was a jitteriness of an addict needing his next fix. Reid was jumpy and easily irritated, and the way his shoulders hunched told the seasoned profiler everything that he needed to know. 

Rossi knew that he had to do something to take Reid’s mind out of the funk that it was in. Luckily, he knew just the thing to do. But first, step one: get Reid out of the office. 

“Spencer, it’s time to head out,” he said as he approached his boyfriend’s desk. 

“Can I finish my report for Hotch? It’s the use of force and firearms report for the Jeffries-Harris case,” Reid said in an unusually testy voice. 

Rossi raised his eyes to Hotch’s office, as if to mentally ask their Unit Chief for permission to whisk Spencer away. Hotch pointed to the clock and put up three fingers, indicating that Reid had finished that report three hours ago. Their stoic superior hid a mischievous smile. 

“Spencer,” Rossi hummed, “you’re a terrible liar.” 

Spencer huffed at that, turning slightly to look at his boyfriend. Rossi leaned over and saw him working on an extremely advanced sudoku. “Fascinating report,” he said dryly, making Spencer flush. “C’mon. We’ve both clocked in enough overtime for two years.” 

Spencer sighed and began to get ready to leave. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Exactly my thought process. Chicken carbonara for dinner?” Rossi asked as Spencer picked up his messenger bag. The older man gently rested a hand on the small of his younger lover’s back to guide him out of the bullpen and towards the elevators. 

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer said, leaning back into Rossi’s hand slightly. 

“Good,” Rossi hummed. “We have to make a slight detour going home, though.” 

“To where?” Spencer asked as they walked to the parking garage. 

“You’ll see,” Rossi hummed again, smiling at his boyfriend. 

“David!” Spencer pouted. “You know that I don’t like surprises!” 

“You like my surprises,” David laughed as they got into the car. “Also, put the cold case file into the glovebox once you get in and settled, please. You’re not going to be working at home tonight.” 

Spencer sighed. “And if I don’t?” he asked. 

“Then you can say goodbye to chicken carbonara and hello to being over my knee,” David said simply, starting to back out of the parking spot while Spencer slipped on his seatbelt. 

Spencer laughed. “And this is supposed to be a deterrent  _ how _ ?” he asked. 

The genuine laugh made David smile. “I mean, it can still be done,” he said. “You know that if you want a spanking, all you have to do is ask.” 

Spencer smiled and relaxed a little bit as David began to drive towards their detour. “So, where are we going?” he asked. 

“You’ll find out when we get there,” David said. 

“Daaaaave,” Spencer pouted. “Can I profile it?” 

“No,” David laughed. “You’ll find out what it is soon enough. Cold case, glovebox, now.” 

Spencer sighed heavily and did as he was asked a second time to do. After a couple minutes contemplation, he put a second one in there. 

David chuckled and turned at a light. “Thank you,  _ passerotto, _ ” he said. 

“I think that I should get a hint for putting both in there,” Spencer joked. 

“No,” David laughed again, reaching over and squeezing Spencer’s knee. “Nice try, though.” 

Spencer pouted. “Not fair,” he told his lover. 

“It is when it’s a surprise,” David smiled, squeezing his lover’s knee again. “Just relax and enjoy the ride.” 

Spencer sighed, but did as he was told. 

They drove in silence for a while before David spoke again. “You know that I love you, Spencer,” he said. “Very much. And that I’m here for you. You know that, right?” 

Spencer nodded, leaning over to rest his head on David’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I love you too, Dave.” 

“So talk to me, baby boy. What’s going on in that brain of yours?” he asked. 

“It’s been so hard to stay sober this time, Dave,” Spencer admitted quietly, “and I’m so scared that I’ll relapse.” 

“I can imagine, this case was no picnic,” David agreed. “And I’m sure that it triggered your PTSD and your addiction. But you’re still going to your NA meetings and you’ve got me.” He turned to kiss Spencer’s hair softly. “I may not be able to empathize, but I am a good listener, and I’ll always support you.” 

“But what if I relapse?” Spencer asked softly. 

“Then I help you through the withdrawal, help you find a way for you to get back on your feet and on the road to sobriety again,” David said simply. “I won’t leave you. Relapse is unfortunately a part of the recovery process. You know that.” 

Spencer nodded, snuggling into David a little. 

“You’ve done three years sober, and you’re doing so well,” David praised. “I’m so proud of you, Spencer.” 

Spencer smiled a little. “Thank you,” he murmured. 

“Of course, baby, this is what being in a relationship is. Helping each other through the dark times and celebrating during the good ones.” David smiled as they arrived at their destination. 

Spencer frowned and raised his head. “Dave? Why are we outside of my favorite used bookstore?” he asked. 

“Retail therapy,” David said nonchalantly as he took his wallet out of the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket. He freed a credit card and handed it to a wide-eyed Spencer. “Take as long as you need, buy what you want. If you need me, I’ll be here in the car,” he told his lover. “Have fun.” 

Spencer broke into a large, happy smile, one David had not seen in a while. He hugged and kissed him sweetly before taking the credit card. “Thank you, Daddy,” he sang playfully before slipping out of the car, almost falling in his eagerness to get inside the bookstore. 

David smiled as he watched Spencer almost prance in. He popped a CD of Italian operas into the car stereo and opened his phone to reply to a few texts. He was perfectly content to let Spencer roam free in the bookstore, where he felt the most comfortable. 

God, he loved him and would do anything to protect him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO IT'S FINISHED

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Twitter: @Alendra_Dragon
> 
> TikTok: @officerlucifer
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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